That Home
by dvmcas1
Summary: Katie's life after college.


*A/N: this is totally out of character and just…I don't even _know_ but it was just a short break from everything else I've been working on lately. And no worries, A Dustland Fairytale update is coming soon, I promise.*

Title: That Home

Couple: Katie/Naomi

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,269

Summary: Katie and Naomi's life after college

Katie pushes herself away from the rough brick wall and the sudden movement threatens to bring the vodka and pills rushing back up her throat. "Fuck," she mumbles and wipes a dry hand across her mouth and she's like drooling or something because her lips are wet and her hair is in her eyes. The bricks on the ground look rough, cut around the edges and she focuses on a little blade of grass poking from one of the cracks. Hands. Theres hands there too. One is on her back. The other pushes back her hair.

"Katie," a voice says. And it's floating above Katie's head disconnected and sad with a slight tinge of concern.

When the hand pushes back her hair it brushes her neck and Katie's stomach twists again but its different this time and it feels less like dying than it does being born again.

"Fuck," she chokes out again.

"I'll get you a taxi," Naomi says.

Katie spits on the ground, hopes that giving up that little bit will make the rest stay inside.

"Attractive," Naomi scoffs.

Katie grips the bottom of Naomi's T-shirt and says, "Fuck off." It's a contradiction that is but so is most of what Katie feels these days.

Something is building. Boiling under the surface and sometimes Katie feels like she can't fucking _cope_. Naomi takes her hand off Katie's knee and murmurs, "You're home now."

_Yeah_, Katie thinks and almost falls out of the taxi when she leaves.

Emily cries a lot these days. Hides in the bathroom, pushes tissue in the fucking keyhole so James can't watch her. Katie hears her but walks on by. Doesn't ask what Naomi did this time, doesn't care. Still she lingers sometimes by the door, wondering if maybe this time Ems will come out, whisper, "Shum," and maybe this time Katie could believe it.

Katie trips out the door, pulling her bag over her shoulder and sees Naomi hunched over on the curb.

"What the fuck are you doing here," she calls out.

Naomi flicks her cigarette onto the pavement and turns to look at Katie, "Waiting," she says plainly and Katie thinks, _about fucking time_.

Emily stops crying a few weeks after that.

Naomi stops waiting.

Emily packs for university. Puts her life in boxes and bags and somehow forgets that Katie is part of that life.

Katie cuts her hair, dyes it, looks in the mirror and asks herself who the fuck she is anymore.

It's the holidays. Emily didn't come home. Coursework. New girlfriend. Whatever.

Katie works extra hours. Watches people buying fucking ugly clothes. Thinks back to college, Naomi, her fucking ugly clothes, and then snorts in some lady's face because somehow she's here at bloody Christmas remembering that floral top with something akin to fucking fondness.

It's a shock. Seeing her. She's on that bloody curb, longer hair, ugly clothes. When she sees Katie she flicks the cigarette away and it's so fucking reminiscent that Katie swallows hard.

Naomi walks towards her and says, "Emily is worried about you. Says you don't return her calls."

Katie shakes her head because for a brief instant it had seemed that Naomi was waiting for her but in the end its still all about…

"Why the fuck can't you lezzers admit to hating your exes? You all want to stay chummy and pretend you never bumped muff."

Naomi looks down at the sidewalk, "I don't hate Emily."

_Liar_, thinks Katie.

Turns out Naomi's in town for the holidays. They have drinks one night after Katie steps out of retail hell.

Naomi buys them shots and as they slam them down in unison on the faded top of the bar, Katie grins wildly because its not what she thought it would be like—being able to stand Naomi—its rather different but different is still nice.

"Happy Christmas, you tacky-assed whore," Naomi says with her hand still on her shot glass.

"Happy Christmas right back you cunt-faced bint," Katie says and her lips spread into a smile.

When university resumes, Naomi drops by to see Katie.

"This break wasn't…horrible," she says with a smirk on her fucking face.

"Whatever, I still hate you," Katie says but there's no venom and for once Katie doesn't wonder about where it might've gone.

As Naomi gets in the car and pulls away she waves out the window and Katie uncrosses her arms and lifts her hand in response.

She watches the car go and then turns back to her own house that for once doesn't really feel like home.

She's blisteringly drunk but she looks up beauty and fashion schools online, favoriting the pages, and muttering about how people should learn how to like make themselves look fucking good.

Emily comes home for their birthday. She comes in Katie's room—and it is Katie's room by now- borrows several of Katie's outfits, tries them on one after the other and when it's taking way too fucking long, Katie gripes, "Just fucking pick one already."

Emily tugs at the skirt and smiles shyly at Katie, "Naomi's coming tonight."

With a loud sigh, Katie flops back on the bed, hands covering her eyes, "Why can't you two give it a fucking rest already?"

Emily sits down on the bed and sounds generally confused when she says, "I don't know."

Everyone comes. Cook walks in thirty minutes late, looking halfway hungover but he still grabs Katie in a big hug. She shrieks and slaps him when he halfheartedly grabs her ass with a smirk.

"Tosser," she mutters and then Naomi walks in and Katie can barely see her over Cook's shoulder, just sees the shock of blonde hair really.

She pushes Cook out of the way and is going to say hi but then out of the crowd she sees Emily making a beeline for the doorway and Naomi is smiling as she approaches so Katie goes to find a fucking drink.

It all ends where it began when Katie lurches over to the wall, feeling like she's going to toss but this time Naomi's already there, puffing on a fag.

"Alright then, Katiekins?" She sounds like she could care less and flicks a bit of ash off her cigarette.

Katie wants to hit her. Wants to push her into the brick and just shove into her.

"Where's Emily," she manages to ask and it sounds bitter and sad even to her drunk as fuck ears.

Naomi flicks her cigarette away angrily if that's even possible and shoves herself away from the wall, "Why would you ask me about her?"

"S'why you came isn't it?"

Naomi stands in front of her for a moment and Katie's like fucking seeing double and one Naomi was too much to cope with so two is definitely…She closes her eyes.

Naomi's voice reaches her anyways, "Would it be so hard to believe that I came here for you?"

Katie throws up and with a sigh Naomi pulls her hair back and says, "You're a mess aren't you, Katiekins?"

Light glances through the curtains and it's bright. So fucking bright. The bed shifts and a weight lifts.

"Stay," Katie says grasping her hand. She's desperate.

Naomi sighs and then lies back down.

"Okay?" Katie asks.

"Yeah, alright," Naomi says wearily.

"I'll be home in a few weeks," Naomi says, her hair tossing in the wind.

Katie nods.

"Sort it out, Katie."

Katie almost sobs, "I'm trying."

With a small smile, Naomi leans forward and puts her lips to Katie's cheek. When she pulls away she murmurs, "I know."

They text sometimes when Naomi can be arsed to figure out all this 'technology bollocks' as she puts it.

Before work one day, Katie sends a short email.

_Off to work, bored as fuck._

_Wish you were here._

It's the biggest concession she's made in years.

Naomi replies with:

_Break coming soon. School is making me feel like a bloody idiot. I deserve a fucking weekend off. Plans?_

_Go out, get fucked up? Drink more than we reasonably should?_

_You're not an idiot. Annoyingly clever actually._

_Katie…_

_You complemented me. Sort of. With an insult as well which I wouldn't really expect anything less from you._

_See you this weekend you horribly pretty slut you._

Katie saves it. Tries to ignore the way her heart's pounding.

Naomi's fingers slide over hers when she hands Katie the margarita. Their eyes meet. Naomi doesn't move her fingers at first. Her eyes narrow and Katie pulls her drink away, drinks almost half of it in a rush, and tries to ignore the incredibly smug look on Naomi's face.

It's actually rather fucking cute, not that she'd ever admit it.

She's drunk; of course she is but no where _near_ drunk enough for this.

Naomi's hands slide across her hips and the beats of the song fade away.

Katie has pills in her purse. She fingers them briefly in the loo. Holds one in between two fingers but then pushes it back down in her bag. She's not that girl anymore. Hasn't been for ages and she's just now figuring that out.

Naomi grips her arm as they walk up the front steps to Katie's house. They're pleasantly drunk, giggly, and a bit daring. Not pilled up. Not trashed. Not blacking out.

_Maybe we're growing up a bit_, Katie thinks before she grips the back of Naomi's neck and pulls her down.

Naomi's lips go from confused to hesitant to right this fucking instant in the span of a few seconds and Katie moans.

"I'm not Emily," she gasps out once they've made it upstairs and Naomi's pushed her down on the bed.

Naomi stills above her, blonde hair falling over her eyes for a second, "I never asked you to be."

Katie wakes up with a mild hangover and with Naomi's arm cast haphazardly across her waist.

They eat toast and trade sections of the paper back and forth over the kitchen table.

After sipping her coffee Naomi glances at the door, "I actually better be getting back."

Katie sighs and Naomi turns and looks at her fondly.

"I'll be back next weekend, you twat."

Katie sets down the paper, "You come home a lot more often than Emily does, you know?"

Naomi leans her chin onto her hand and stares at Katie pointedly, "Now I wonder why that would be?"

Pretending to find something _engrossing_ in the paper, Katie grins and hopes that Naomi didn't see her blush.

Katie keeps her hands in her robe pockets as she stands in the doorway, "Text me when you get there, alright?"

Naomi puts her bag down and wraps Katie in a hug and its rather fucking nice especially when Naomi's arms tighten a bit and she murmurs, "I'll miss you."

Katie calls Emily later that day and says, "I don't hate you, you know? I just hate that I'm not in your life anymore."

Emily rushes out with how she'll come home more and she'll text Katie everyday but Katie knows lies when she hears them and hangs up with a short, "Goodbye."

Naomi's fingers trace down her sides, nails raking lightly.

"That fucking tickles, you twat," Katie says with a sleepy grin.

Naomi looks up at her with a goofy smile on her face. One that Katie's never seen but it fits there and Katie thinks it's a damn shame that Naomi doesn't smile like that all the time.

Katie crooks her finger and motions for Naomi to _come here_, Naomi kisses her way up, hovering at the spot where her heart is. Pressing her lips there for long moments.

When Naomi's finally eye to eye with her, Katie whispers, "How," against Naomi's neck.

All Naomi does is lean back with a fond look in her eyes and says, "Don't know, Katie. Don't fucking know."

"I don't like doing this," Katie murmurs, "I hate standing here." She leaves off the _watching you go_ but it's implied and Naomi gets it.

The next day Katie gets a text about an absolutely shitty apartment that's not far from Naomi's university.

For once and maybe the last time, Katie actually goes to see Naomi. Texts her when she's outside the door.

Naomi opens it with a raggedy T-shirt and knickers on, blinking confusedly. Katie pushes her into the room and kisses her hard.

When Naomi finally pulls away she gasps out, "Jesus, Kay? What the fuck?"

"Yes," Katie almost sobs, hearing how choked up she sounds, "Just…fucking yes, okay?"

Naomi swallows hard when she realizes what they're talking about but she pulls Katie into another kiss. A rough one, full of need and Katie kicks the open door shut behind her as Naomi pulls her towards the bed.

It is shitty and it's incredibly small but they can afford it with some help from Naomi's mum. Katie scoffs at water stains on the ceiling.

Naomi wraps her arms around Katie's waist from behind, "Welcome home," she whispers.

As she turns to meet Naomi's lips Katie thinks about how fucked up little kids get on the ideas of romance and love they get from those sodding books and how the real thing is always far from ideal and lovely, its usually unexpected and a mess. _But-_ Katie thinks as Naomi whispers something about christening the bedroom—_sometimes it can feel pretty damn perfect_.


End file.
